


Tell Them How You Screwed Up

by justice_and_thieves



Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 Will Kick My Ass [1]
Category: Persona 4, Persona 5
Genre: Gen, Let Sakamoto Ryuji Say Fuck, Souji and Yosuke are married in this, Souji is a trustfund baby, as they should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:14:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27347197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justice_and_thieves/pseuds/justice_and_thieves
Summary: For someone living in a rather rural area, Souji had trouble aligning with the less fortunate. At least, that was how Ryuji’s mother would put it. In his own words, Souji Hanamura, formerly Souji Seta, was one rich motherfucker who had no idea how hard things could get.Or: I write dumb shit for NaNoWriMo based on rp shenanigans
Relationships: Sakamoto Ryuji & Seta Souji
Series: NaNoWriMo 2020 Will Kick My Ass [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1997089
Kudos: 6





	Tell Them How You Screwed Up

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by wordfather on... Tumblr? I think? Idk guys I've seen a screencap and that's it

For someone living in a rather rural area, Souji had trouble aligning with the less fortunate. At least, that was how Ryuji’s mother would put it. In his own words, Souji Hanamura, formerly Souji Seta, was one rich motherfucker who had no idea how hard things could get.

It wasn’t that he was mean or haughty about it in the slightest: his missteps were largely accidental, like telling someone to “just go for it” when they were craving sushi or expensive fruit, or recommending excessively pricey venues when one asked for fun activities to do or places to go during a holiday.

When Ryuji pointed it out one day, Souji had the good grace to look contrite. He had met some of Yosuke’s coworkers at a mixer a couple days earlier and had felt a certain discrepancy. It could have been something he said, he supposed, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out what exactly. He was usually graceful in public in the way his natural poise and formal ways granted him, but he’d had other things on his mind that night.  
Souji had been happily chatting with some people whose name he vaguely remembered, then next minute they had that _look_ on their face and cut the conversation short. Whatever he had said before then was a blur filled with not-too-fresh tuna and concerns about Nanako.

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” he reasoned under Ryuji’s suspicious stare, “nobody threw their drink at me.”

“That’s a good start,” the blond acquiesced with a shrug. “But y’know, there are plenty of good ways to relate to people and help them relate to you.”

“I know that. Food is a good opener.”

“Yeah, but you can only go so far.” He paused then, biting down on his lip, fingers scratching behind his ear in that way that meant an over the top idea was on its way. “Tell me something about food, okay, let’s make it an exercise. Pretend I’m the wife of some other staff member who’s older than you and Yosuke, alright?”

Souji raised an eyebrow, but he could tell Ryuji was aching for something to do — then again he always was, but the way his knees were bouncing and his fingers tapping a rhythm on his legs was as good an indicator of his pent-up energy as the movements of a cat’s tail.

Well, the best way out was through. Souji cleared his throat, sitting up straight as a ramrod.

“Alright. Good evening, Tanaka-san, it’s good to see you.”

“You’re gonna call me something as bland as _Tanaka_ , really?” Ryuji muttered.

Souji merely shrugged, dexterously evading all memories of a decidedly not bland Tanaka.

“Fine,” the runner sighed. He turned around, seemingly looking for something although Souji couldn’t figure what his kitchen would hold that would be valuable at a time like that. Then Ryuji let out a sound of triumph, grabbed a napkin, and placed it on top of his head.

“What are you doing?” Souji asked in a whisper, like anything louder than this would awake the demon that currently possessed the former thief.

“I’m getting into character, shut it.” He took on a higher-pitched voice and a demure attitude, camping Mrs Tanaka with all the commitment he had in his body. “You are Hanamura-san’s husband, right? The one who took the last avocado toast at the last mixer?”

The note of reproach in his tone was a nice touch, a subtlety he had certainly not learned from Ann. It was too bad the napkin ruined the effort.

“That couldn’t have been me,” Souji continued, forcing himself to look straight into Ryuji’s eyes with a charming smile on his lips, “I am allergic to avocado. The eel was delicious that time though.”

“It was, wasn’t it?” A hand flew to Ryuji’s chest, the napkin flapping where one of its extremities laid over his forehead. “I wish we’d had more of it. I was hoping to see something different this time as well, but no such luck.”

“I suppose they were on a budget, seeing how many people came this year. It’s better to have good eel than bad caviar,” Souji chuckled to himself only to be rudely interrupted.

“OUT!” Ryuji crossed his arms above his head in an X shape. “Caviar, dude? Really?”

Souji hesitated between a shrug and a pout. He did both. Which Ryuji found adorable but didn’t mention, as he was supposed to be scolding him at the moment. For a cat person, Souji was very dog-like himself at times.

“You know most people don’t get to eat caviar, especially not enough to make the difference between good and bad one, right?”

“It only takes tastebuds to know…”

“No. We try again. No fancy food mention this time.”

So they started from the top, Ryuji changing up his lines to give his friend renewed opportunities to bring up things that, apparently, the less fortunate would find too impressive – like the delicious waffles one had in Brussels, or the richness of spices in India, or how much tastier food can be when one’s consuming it under the bright northern lights of Iceland.

“You can’t talk about anything good,” was the conclusion Ryuji finally came to, relaxing into his chair. “If you talk about how happy you are and all the cool things you can do, they’re gonna get scared. Most people working an office job are kinda miserable, y’know? So you gotta show them you’re the same.”

“But I’m not miserable,” Souji countered, eyebrows furrowed. How could he when he was married to the most amazing man in the world? Getting lectured by a man wearing a napkin on his head didn’t help make anything clearer.

“Doesn’t matter, find something! Tell ‘em how you screwed up.”

Grey eyes blinked once, twice, then stared at eager brown. Silence stretched between the two.

“Tell them how _what_?”

Ryuji sighed, throwing his arms up to the gods like they’d listen to him. His napkin slid a bit to the left without his noticing, and Souji wondered if it would be harder or easier to take him seriously with half his head covered like one of those terrible haircuts from the early 2000s.

“People love relating to others through failures! It makes you feel less terrible, y’know? Makes you feel good! So, let’s try again, and now tell me a story about how you fucked up big time!”

“Language,” was all Souji managed to say, because the idea was strange at best and unwelcome at worst.

“Nanako’s not here. Anyway,” the blond soldiered on, sensing his fellow electricity-wielder’s unease, “it doesn’t have to be a big thing. Just tell ‘em about how you uh, went to your car without your car keys or, or how the soap slipped out of your hands three times in a row, y’know? The little things.”

Little things. Surely he had some of those to share that wouldn’t be too embarrassing. Retelling such moments to Ryuji was one thing, but imagining wording them for strangers was another entirely. But his friend would tell him if his story wasn’t good enough, wouldn’t he? Souji could even change the details of a story until it was barely his own lived experience anymore. Yes, all Souji had to do was make up a story interesting yet believable enough to serve as an ice-breaker. Not that lying was something he _did_ , but for something as inconsequential as that…

“Hanamura-san,” Ryuji started again in his high-pitched voice, “your suit looks really good. Wherever in the world did you get it?”

That was bait. Souji could tell as much. All his suits were tailored, if only because he was on the taller side and enjoyed a perfect fit. He had a good few italian ones he favoured due to how comfortable they felt. He mentioned none of that, going instead for a meek:

“A friend lent it to me, so gracious of him. I spilled coffee on mine only an hour before we had to leave, you see?”

Mrs Tanaka’s gasp of horror was barely audible behind Ryuji’s pleased one. The napkin fell off Ryuji’s head completely with the moment, but the blond didn’t seem to notice. “That is absolutely _dreadful_ , Hanamura-san! But why ever were you wearing your suit so early on?”

“I wanted to see if it still fit.” The lie came easily enough, and Souji was even finding himself enjoying the pretending act. It was like the games children played, turning themselves into super-heroes. Instead Souji turned himself into a near-failure of a man, because he already was a super-hero and that didn’t work out near as well as one would hope.

“Oh, you haven’t had an opportunity to wear it recently, I take it?” Ryuji’s syrupy sweet tone took on an icy edge Souji recognised all too well. It was the one people used when they wanted to appear nice but thought they had the upper hand; the tone of one showing teeth to bite rather than smile.

“Not this one, I’m afraid,” he smiled politely but below the surface his bite was cold as ice just the same. “I have so many suits I tend to forget some at the back of my dressing room, you see?”

Now the gasp was fully Ryuji’s as he dropped his act in favour of pointing a finger at his friend, grin wide and disbelieving.

“You saw it coming! You saw my mean older woman coming! Fucking clap back, dude!”

He was nearly vibrating with excitement, like he’d laid a trap so intricate that escaping it had just proven Souji was part of the world’s 3% highest IQs. Which was touching and sort of adorable, so the older Persona wielder let it go. No use ruining an innocent guy’s dreams.

“It was subtle, but I know my older women.”

“Oooh, do you now?”

“Well, yes. For instance there was this nurse–no, actually let me not get into that one.”

“ _Please get into that one_ ,” Ryuji pleaded, puppy eyes tacked on like the most effective Christmas bauble on the whole damn tree.

So Souji heaved a deep, deep sigh, and proceeded to tell Ryuji a story that involved no 7 hours-long plane flight, or caviar, or private beach, and entertained him just as well.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd be very happy if y'all could just accept this without asking for any context whatsoever.  
> Anyway, I plan on writing one of those every day to keep up with my word count so I'll see you next time!


End file.
